George

I mentioned in an earlier post that I met a Tongan fellow named George on the flight from Fiji to Tonga. He had been on an extended visit with family in the Los Angeles area, and was coming home for a while. While still on the plane, George asked me to carry in a couple bottles of liquor he bought duty-free and I declined. Later, after passing through customs, he met me with a bag an put it in my hands. My intuition told me I should take it for him, so I did.

It was quite awkward to ask His Eminence Myron, Metropolitan of New Zealand, to hang tight on the curb at the airport while I waited to make a contraband hand-off to a guy I barely knew. Fr. Paul showed obvious surprise that I arrived to Tonga and introduced myself while holding a bag with enough hard spirits to drink the entire national rugby squad under the table, but he seemed to understand when he saw me hand the bag off to George with a brief farewell. To top it off, an airport police officer strode by just as I made the transfer, but he appeared entirely disinterested in the illegal act.

After relinquishing the booze I barely gave a thought to the incident as I got acquainted with the people and land of Tonga. On my last day I sat across the street from the Church of St. George, making as complete an inventory as I could of all the work remaining. As I wrote in my notebook a little red car pulled up and parked right in front of me, blocking my view of the church. Out stepped a young man who waved and said, “Michael!” It was George!

He introduced me to his girlfriend and said they were going to get married. She just shrugged and said she didn’t know anything about it. We chatted for a while, and he told me that he’d soon be flying to Australia to visit some family –  I guess he doesn’t spend much time in his home country. The young lady (whose name I failed to write down) gave me some helpful tips about buying building materials since she works at the biggest hardware store in town – Pacific Timber & Hardware (PTH). After a relatively brief chat they said they had to be on their way, and George gave me a firm, Tongan handshake before driving off.

I was touched that after our brief encounter on the plane that he would seek me out and come by to visit. It’s more evidence of the warm and hospital culture of Tonga.